You Think You Know Someone...

My best friend and I walked another lap around her neighborhood. The fourth one. Aimee is my best friend, believe me. I can tell her anything. That's what we always say, but somethings we just don't talk about. Somethings are hard to admit to, hard to tell anyone. Right now I choked on my words, wondering how she would accept me if I did tell her. Because I want to tell her, I don't want to hide this anymore.

"Would you look at me differently if I told you something? That I did. Something bad?" I finally forced out, knowing what she would say in reply, but needing to break the silence that had hung over us for these three laps. She looked at me for a second, maybe shocked that I was bringing something like this up, or maybe just trying to read my expression.

"Of course not. There is nothing you could tell me that would make me judge you." Of course not. Why do I not fully believe that? "Jen, just tell me. Ok? Just get it out." Right, just get it out. Something like this is not something I would normally just say. Can I really just tell her? I waited until we had passed the block that fourth time to start. Making stupid excuses to myself, like I don't want that construction worker to hear, or, when we passed her house again, I don't want her dad to come home and somehow hear. Finally, I couldn't satnd it any longer. I blurted out the words that had circled in my head all day, and hoped that I would be okay.

"Well...You know how David...masturbates? Well..." Aimee waited, patiently for me to get to the point. I could hardly talk, I was close to crying and my throat burned, but I knew I had to continue. "He sent me pictures. Of that...and we talk, or used to talk about things like that, over text. Sex stuff. Making up stories, saying what we would do to each other, knowing that we never actually would." I could feel Aimee's reaction, but I didn't know what exactly it was. I could just see her tense beside me, and I knew she wanted a turn to talk, but I hadn't told her all of it yet. I tried to breath deeply, to collect myself, and to go on, to tell the rest of the story. "And I...I sent him a picture, once. Of me..." I could feel her mental 'No..' and I knew she was disappointed in me. In that second, I wished that I could take it all back. I felt so open, and revealed, like I had just ripped my mind open and she could see the disgusting inside of my horrible thoughts. I felt like such a slut. I didn't want her to reply, because I didn't want her to know. Why did I tell her? The situation was made all the worse by the fact that Aimee dated David a year ago and he was still obsessed with her. I knew, the whole time that I was doing what I did, that David didn't like ME at all. He liked her, and she was over him. He's also our mutual friend, a best friend. How could I have done that with him? And how in the world is it possible that I still want to? I still want him to text me about the state of his pants, and how they were growing. I wanted him to tell me what he would do to me, even knowing that it was very likely that while I was thinking about him, he was thinking about my best friend.

"So...I...I've seen David's dick," I said, awkwardly when she didn't say anything.
"Oh, Jennifer," She said. She looked up, silent. I wasn't sure if she was going to say anything else, so I prompted her.
"What are you thinking about? What do you think about me now?" I asked her.
"Honestly, I don't know what to say. This might sound bad, but I'm really not that surprised," She told me, looking straight ahead.
"That he would do that, or that I would?" Wow. Yes, she just said that. I'm not gonna lie, that hurt. My best friend is not that surprised that I sent a naked picture of me to one of our friends?

"Both of you. I mean, how you're such a touchy person, you just come across like that. And he, well he's always been messed up. I always...almost expected you to do something like...no, not expected, just thought you could, or might. But I always hoped you wouldn't. And now, I'm just really disappointed." I knew she was disappointed, but to hear her say it...it almost felt like, like she thought she would have never done it, like she would have known better. Like she could have done better than me. But I knew better, I knew it was wrong, and I still fell under the temptation of it.

"So, you always thought I was a slut? That I would do something like this?" I asked, just because I wanted to be wrong, to have heard her wrong or got the wrong meaning out of what she said.
"No. You're not a slut, Jen. And that's not what I think. You just come across that way to some people, because, like YOU said, last night, you don't think a lot is awkward and you're not embarrassed by a lot. I just thought you might accidentally fall into something like this."

"Ok," I said. The hardest part of what she said is that it's true. I just wish I had known that she thought that all along. Because I probably 'come across' that way to everyone. Like my church youth group. I'm such a great example, right? But I struggle, and it's hard. I'm not perfect and I had to make sure that she knew that, I had to make sure that she was still my friend. "I just...I regret it, you know? I feel horrible. And you probably think that I'm the worst Christian ever. Especially to David, since he doesn't even know what he believes yet, and I'm supposed to be guiding him and setting an example for him, so what do I do? I know. But, it's hard. When he would text me like that...and you know how much I like him...to try to refuse that when I'm all alone, at home, feeling like no one cares. I know I was being used, that it didn't mean anything to him. It's something I really struggle with. I don't want you to think of me badly. I'm only human and I mess up." I stopped my defense to look at her and see what she thought about all this. I was startled to see my earlier expression, mirrored on her face. She was struggling to admit something, wanting to say something to me. I let her.

"I know," She said. She took a deep, shaky breath. "I guess I can tell you. I should. Do you remember those pills on my dresser that you asked about? And I told you that they were for my acne or athsma or something?" I did. But I didn't interrupt to tell her so. What was she saying? She can't mean..."it was what you thought it was. I didn't do any of them, I was just dealing them, but...I'm guess that I'm saying, i know how you feel. Can I...tell you my story?"